A Brief History Of Timing
by KingofAllRight
Summary: A poor barman has a potentially difficult customer come in one night. Not two minutes later, another hazardous customer enters the bar. Will the two firecrackers calm one another, or will they set each other off?


"The usual, Mr. Potter?"

"I'd much prefer a firewhiskey right now, thanks." Tonight was going to be a long night.

The bartender, Pete, gave his regular a long glance, but was ignored. "Coming right up." Moments later, the glass was in his hand. And then it was in pieces, showering the floor with tiny shards. A man from the far corner of the bar ceased his stirring to mend the glass and place it on back on the counter, but never took his eyes away from his book "A Brief History of Time." Harry muttered a "Thanks," but the man didn't seem to take any notice of it. Harry scanned the crowd, looking for something else to catch his attention. Instead, he only found the eyes of his bartender. "Sorry."

"Another one?"

"That would be great." His voice stayed flat.

Pete tried again, "So, what's going on?"

Harry grunted. "Something you'll read tomorrow in the Daily Prophet, I'm sure."

A long pause ensued. The pieces were coming together. "Ginny?"

Harry grunted again. Pete sighed; having a firecracker was enough to worry about, but that firecracker being Mr. Potter at least tripled the eggshells he'd have to tread over.

As if in response to his thoughts, the front doors swung open dramatically. "I'll take the biggest glass of firewhiskey you're allowed to serve." Pete blinked, and then again. It looked like her, and it sounded like her, but Harry still hadn't moved a muscle in her direction. She plopped down on the stool right next to Harry, and still neither of them acknowledged the other. What the hell is going on here? Pete's thought was interrupted by his need to fill yet another glass of firewhiskey in the last two minutes.

Pete put down the full glass loudly, hoping to get Harry to look up. Nothing. "Thanks." Hermione offered before downing half of it.

"Are you alright, Miss?" Another useless question, no doubt. She was going to be as impossible as her friend.

"I'm-" He never heard the rest of her response, though. She'd finally spotted Harry. "Harry? What are you doing here? And why are you drinking firewhiskey?"

Harry looked up at her, blank and confused. About fifteen seconds later, his brain started moving again. "Hermione?! What are you doing here?"

She nearly growled, "I asked you first."

He sighed, "Ginny broke up with me."

"What?" Her full attention was now devoted. "Why?"

Harry shook his head several times, as if he was trying to fight the urge to tell her. He lost that battle. "She wants to stay in the spotlight, and she wants to bring me with."

Hermione scoffed, "You mean use you as the spotlight." She corrected him.

Harry ignored her. "I told her that I wanted to find a nice quiet place somewhere and stay away from media." His story abruptly ended, though Pete knew there was more to tell.

"And?" Hermione seemed to agree with Pete.

"And she said that we should take a break from each other." Apparently the brightest witch of her age isn't always right. Pete thought to himself.

"Taking a break doesn't necessarily me-" Harry looked up at her, their eyes boring into each other. He'd stopped her cold, in mid-sentence no less. "I'm sorry." She offered instead, reaching an arm around him. He accepted her invitation, hugging her tightly while choking back tears.

Pete turned away, pretending to be busy. He lived on eavesdropping, but even he knew that feigning ignorance was best at times. He heard a quiet, "Thanks" a little while later. Pete was mentally urging him on, practically begging that he ask the obvious question.

Harry glanced at her glass before picking it up, sniffing it, and then taking a sip. "You ordered firewhiskey?" He realized the glass was almost empty, "You drank firewhiskey?"

Hermione turned away, but Harry was having none of it. "What going on, Hermione? Are you okay?"

The fake smile appeared, "Of course."

Harry grunted, obviously aware that she was lying. "And you came here to drink firewhiskey because you're completely okay." If only sarcasm could be bottled, it would have been the perfect consistency for making a nice syrup to drizzle over pancakes tomorrow morning.

Hermione relented. "I got into a fight with Ron."

Harry made a low growl. "What did he do this time?"

"He told me-" she paused, she voice wavering, She sniffled loudly and exhaled before trying again. "He told me that I should stop putting my books before him."

Harry groaned, resting his forehead on his palm. "He's still fighting with you about that?"

Hermione's lament switched to anger in a heartbeat. "Yes, he still fighting with me about it! I told him that I needed time alone. He said-"

"He said that it was fine, but he's been bringing it up for the last year."

She nodded, another tear preparing to begin its descent. Harry leaned over, extending the same invitation to her that she had to him minutes before. She accepted, but this time, she was the one fighting the tears.

She broke away from him just long enough to squeak, "So, we're done" in one of the most pitiful voices Pete had ever heard. The hug was resumed, and she was openly crying this time. A few minutes later, they separated. Harry snickered quietly.

"What's so funny?"

"This timing is ridiculous." He explained. She smiled slightly. He retaliated with a half-smile of his own. Then, they both broke into quiet laughter. Pete thought that both Weasley siblings had shown a very similar lack of ability to compromise, but he kept that to himself. The two situations had been defused all on their own, it seemed. For a bartender, that was like winning the lottery.

Pete exhaled audibly; Tonight might just turn out to be an okay night.


End file.
